


Her Holiday Home

by JJsSexcapades (orphan_account)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Incest, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Underage Sex, Young
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 09:11:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18407570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/JJsSexcapades
Summary: I apologise to all residents of the great republic of Thomas Jefferson for using the faulty English diction of the tyrant King George IV. Patriots bled and died in order to escape our extraneous 'U's and illogical phobia of the letter 'Z'. I can only hope for your patience and forgiveness.





	Her Holiday Home

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise to all residents of the great republic of Thomas Jefferson for using the faulty English diction of the tyrant King George IV. Patriots bled and died in order to escape our extraneous 'U's and illogical phobia of the letter 'Z'. I can only hope for your patience and forgiveness.

They say that when it rains it pours. But in my case, once things got as out of hand as they did, a bit of water spraying down from the sky would have been a welcome relief.

\--

It was great, great news! It drained me of every last drop of my energy to contain my excitement, and even then I almost certainly failed. Every once in awhile I'd feel the smile creeping back onto my face.

My entire life's culmination had been realised. We were walking back home from school together.

"Ahhh, we're finally free!" She let out, carefree and not giving out the slightest hint of the severity of events that were about to transpire.

"I feel you," was my instant response. I was hardly firing all cylinders in the creativity department at that point, but who knew what awaited me?

"You know my grandparents right?"

"Yeah? What about them."

"Did you ever see their place?"

After pausing to think for a few moments I managed to dredge up an ancient memory and responded "yeah, I think so. It was the big white place near the ocean right?"

"Yeah, yeah that's it."

"What about it?"

"Oh, it isn't much. They're moving away soon, y'know. They want access to something bigger than the clinic down that way as they get older. So they're giving it to us."

…! Isn't that huge news? "Does that mean you're moving down to the coast?"

"Oh god no, I couldn't live that far away from the city with school and everything. We're gonna keep it as a holiday home for now. My parents will probably use it when they retire."

"Oh, ain't that nice? You basically get your own house without having to pay for it." I teased.

She blushed at that jab. Although her grandparents were loaded, her parents themselves were nothing of the sort. So while she had enjoyed several of the perks of a rich kid, it always rubbed her the wrong way to be thought of that way.

"Well that isn't the point." She retorted, now pouting. “I just wanted to let you know that I’d be staying there for most of the break.”

“Don’t burn yourself on your little private island.”

“They aren’t that rich.”

“May as well be.”

She stretched her arms into the air, making the cutest little grunts and she released the last of her school related stress. “This break might be the best one I’m gonna get. My parents are going to be on the other side of the country helping my grandparents set up in their new place.”

“Ohoho. So you and your sister are going to have the whole place to yourself too… Show-off.”

As far as I knew that was the end of it. Emilia, the love of my life, the most beautiful thing I knew existed, had suddenly been blessed with the perfect inheritance. And good for her. But after navigating a busier street in relative silence that assumption was blown out the proverbial window.

“You know, you and the other guys can use the holiday home if you want.” She had an odd habit of referring to my family as “guys” despite the abundance of women in it. Perhaps it was an intentionally ironic habit—Emilia did have an idiosyncratic sense of humour.

Certainly, you could stretch that definition to my younger brother, dad and grandfather, but there were just as many “non-guys” in the family as well. Especially if you didn’t count me, then my twin sisters really weighted the equation toward the other side if anything.

Regardless, I’d sure it’d be a welcome offer. But the logistics of it just couldn’t work. “Thanks for the offer, but I just can’t see that working out. Anytime they’d want it your bunch would already be over there.”

She just gave a puzzled look for a few moments and then went into thought. As though she was a foreigner who was carefully inspecting the meaning of each of my words in her head. “What are you talking about?” She eventually stated plainly, “why would they need to wait for us? There are plenty of rooms. Any of you are free to stay over whenever suits you.”

“Oh, okay.” I responded apathetically. Of course, I wasn’t actually particularly apathetic. Emilia’s grandparents had an incredible place and I was sure staying over would be the height of luxury. I just hadn’t really let it hit me that this could be such a great opportunity.

I continued, “I’ll look forward to it. Can’t use it this break though, little ones are going to the farm.” I was referring to my grandparents’ farm. Once you got old enough, our parents insisted on taking each child out to their farm to learn “real life” skills needed to live on the land. It was mostly just tokenism, but regardless they were kidnapping the twins for the break. Daniel—my little brother—had volunteered to go down again despite heading down two years ago for his training. I guess some of it must have stuck.

“Oh yeah, forgot that was a thing at your place. Have fun.” She fired back, giving me an unnaturally cute little salute.

“Huh? I’m not going. I already did my time. And I’m definitely not going just for fun when the twins will be there. Can you imagine the storm they’ll cause out on the farm. I’m getting the house to myself for over two weeks once they’re gone.”

It was then that Emilia locked my heart in a tight, warm grip and squeezed like it was the simplest thing in the world. It was a basic string of words, containing only an idea anyone could have thought of. But its consequences were colossal.

“If you’re not busy, just come stay with us.”

\--

The three hours between me getting home and my family leaving for the farm were pure torture. The realisation that I could spend so much of my break alone with Emilia had transfixed me. My brain couldn’t process anything else.

Once they left I was moving in slow motion. I slowly prepared some food and vacantly ate it while the news played on the TV in the background. It was perfectly audible, but seemed somehow tuned to some bizarre alternate frequency of sound not of this world, because not a single word managed to enter my mind.

After finishing up my meal it dawned on me that I was perfectly alone. The house was mine. And my increasingly depraved imagination demanded my full attention.

Of course, with complete control of the house I could take liberties that would normally seem ridiculous. I carelessly tossed my clothes, underwear and all, on the floor where I stood. I then set the TV to play a particular video file. It was a video of Emilia. But she was not as I could ever hope to see her.

She was as naked as the day she was born. The video was from decently far away, and the only sound one could hear were the hushed snickers of Emilia’s sister—Bridget. Emilia is swimming and relaxing in the family’s pool. Of course that wasn’t odd in and of itself, but her state of dress invited my particular attention. And from what I have been able to deduce after repeated, religious viewings of the video, her parents must have been out at the time of recording.

How did I come to possess this video? I helped Bridget fix her laptop one of the many times I was over their house, and came across it on there entirely by accident. It seems Bridget had discovered her sister taking use of the fact she believed she was alone to skinny dip in their pool. But what Bridget had only found humorous and embarrassing at first, I found thoroughly engrossing.

I had unconsciously positioned myself comfortably on a seat in front of this video being displayed on our large screen TV and taken my engorged member and gripped it forcefully. My strokes were calm yet rapid. I evenly pulled up and down, massaging its length while my eyes rapidly absorbed every pixel displayed in front of me.

I had seen this video innumerable times, yet each time was a fresh and potent experience. This was the first time I had the good fortune to use the large family TV for this purpose since I had uncovered this gem, and unsurprisingly I became completely enveloped in the most intense masturbatory experience of my life. The combination of sheer visual quality, my racing imagination and the taboo voyeurism taking place on screen was a sensual elixir, mixed just for me. Each pump of my prick was the creation of a new universe of desire in my mind. A new realm of pleasure overcoming my soul.

I briefly glanced at my cock. (This seems impossible now that I can think about it objectively.) But somehow, the sheer lust pulsing through it had allowed it to grow a few centimetres. As though it knew it needed to go beyond its limits if it wanted to thoroughly impale the illusory maiden displayed in front of me.

And then came the climax. Not literally at this point for my erect soldier, but for the video. I can’t be sure of Bridget’s exact intentions for what follows, but she herself is approaching that age. Regardless, the video takes a turn I cannot help but elucidate.

Emilia exits the pool and lays on a chair beside it. The camera takes the opportunity to zoom in that dreamlike body, examining it from head to toe. And then a miracle occurred. Unimagined by any god or devil. Emilia, perhaps out of devious curiosity, reaches down and begins stimulating her own genital area.

It is not a particularly passionate session that she undertakes. Her hands make cautious, patient movements, seemingly aware that this isn’t the time and place. But understanding what this means, Bridget herself cannot resist. With a still shot capturing the full glory of Emilia’s self-pleasuring, the sound of fabric being undone overcomes the video. And the slow, lascivious moans of Emilia’s own sister conquers my living room via our top of the line sound system.

Bridget and Emilia pleasure themselves in sync. And I join their chorus of sin as well. Up and down, reaching arousal I never knew was possible for a mortal man. I can feel it. This will be the greatest, most powerful, most lustful ejaculation I have ever had on this planet. As a teenage man, that is saying a lot. This will be enough pleasure and cum to transform my life.

And with my parents gone for weeks on end; with the house to myself; while I am totally alone, I can shamelessly release my seed without restraint. At least, that was my hope. However, the next sound I hear changes everything.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

Three words. They should be impossible, but there they were. It was a voice I recognised. I simultaneously turned toward it to confirm what I heard and fell backwards, fleeing from it in a craze. But that was the critical error. In doing so I pointed my 18cm manhood straight at my cousin Jenna.

She stared wordlessly at my fully erect cock. But the sounds of Bridget and the passionate masturbation of Emilia were still being transmitted on the TV without any concern for our state of affairs in my present reality. And my imagination still fully lusted after that image. It was too late.

I couldn’t even summon the willpower to stop my strokes as they pushed me on to completion. Then, just as prophesied, unimaginable quantities of my semen was suddenly ejected from my reproductive organ. The first few wads shot forth at incredible speed. And to my eternal display, soaked my cousin standing before me in my sperm. The floor in front of her was also covered soon afterwards. And then regular spurts continued for almost a minute, until a pathetic trail of leftovers was all that remained dripping from my virile member.

\--

I had been warned once by one of the guys at school: No matter what precautions you take, if you masturbate or have sex while other people live with you, you will get caught. It was apparently a cosmic law. I never believed in such superstitions. There was always a risk of that happening, but if you controlled yourself and didn’t do it too much, and always mitigated those risks, I was sure it was something you could easily avoid. Only a punishment for the unprepared, in other words.

Perhaps, there was greater wisdom in those words then I understood. From now on, I swear, I will take upon myself the humility needed to listen to others. If this was the act of some cosmic being, the will of fate, why doesn’t it have sufficient mercy to come down and save me from my perils.

Yes, perhaps my fuel this time around was particularly questionable. There is no question in my mind that the video pushed, or rather made a mockery of the concepts of consent and respect. However, at my youthful age of 15 years of age, I am sure that nothing I have done on this planet is proportional or deserving of this shameful level of retribution.

After all, my cousin, my own flesh and blood, was standing before me; she was expressionless and unable to comprehend the series of events that could have conceivably led to the smears of incestuous ejaculate painting her Sunday best an unexpected tone of white. Perhaps she had connected the naked female figure who was herself climaxing in the full glory of a HD television to her memory of Emilia, A.K.A. my best friend. Perhaps she even went as far as recognising the owner of the voice who was moaning and participating in our spatially disconnected string of orgasms. Jenna, Emilia and Bridget had all met at various times in the past few years, but it was unclear how much of what she was seeing Jenna had the state of mind to understand.

All she did was stand there and stare at my still penis, which had now fallen to half-mast, seemingly as a memorial to my recently deceased sense of self-respect. This was really, really bad. I had to speak up to somehow redeem this situation even the smallest amount. I had to at least apologise now, otherwise there was no hope for either of us to move beyond this.

“Fuck… I am so sorry.” That was all I could pathetically throw out. She just kept looking around blankly. Suddenly her eyes locked on the TV.

“Oh my god! Is that Emilia?” she finally said.

“Shit!” I blurted out and scrambled for the remote. Why the fuck did I leave the TV on? The video had looped around and started from the beginning.

“Wait!” I suddenly heard her yell. Wait for what? What in the goddamn universe could I conceivably need to wait for in this situation? At best I needed to wait for my uncerimonial execution. Jenna, in the living room, with the lead pipe. It wasn’t a bad way to go out given the circumstances.

She breathed heavily while I was frozen in place. “Give me the remote.” She issued a clinical command with a completely unfitting air of calm. I complied wordlessly. And then unbelievably, she turned it up! I’m sorry, what? What is her intention?!

“That is Bridget right? What the frick, is she perving on her sister?” At first she seemed to be speaking to herself. But then she turned to me and repeated herself. “Care to explain?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Uhhh… Oh fuck… I found the video on Bridget’s laptop. It seems like Bridget was just meaning it as a joke. But… You’ll see.” You’ll see? You’ll fucking see?! What was I saying. I should have been asking her to turn it off. Nay, begging if I had to. Even with such a ridiculous situation, especially now that I had mentioned the second part of the video and made it fresh in my memory, my cock had returned to its former glory and she had given me no opportunity to dress myself again. I could not survive unless she turned off the video immediately.

“Move over.”

Pardon?

What had she just said?

Without waiting for me to actually move, she flew over toward the couch. I moved over to one side in a panic as commanded and she sat down, still focused on the TV. For a few minutes she just silently stared at the TV. I couldn’t take it much longer. My penis was pulsing. It was crying out for sex, and I couldn’t possibly give it the attention it sorely needed in this insane situation.

Just as I was beginning to fear I might throw up from stress, she glanced and over and nonchalantly shared her opinion, “holy shit, Emilia is really fucking sexy. I’d never really looked at her like this before. Y’know?” What was with this casual tone? She was sitting there watching my best friend nude, and calling her sexy? What did that mean?

She looked down at my cock next. And again, as if it was the most casual thing in the world said “dude what are you waiting for?” At that point, her intentions were a complete mystery and I didn’t move an inch. But then things took an impossible turn.

Jenna looked down at her clothes, seemingly finally remembering they were soaked in cum, stood up, and begun undressing. For some reason I assumed she would reasonably stop at the ones immediately wet and uncomfortable, but the she undid her bra and smoothly removed it. Revealing her perky, 17 year old breasts. The moment they entered my vision my hands involuntarily gripped my member and started stroking.

She then slipped out of her panties, let them fall to the floor and resumed her seat next to me. Her hands slid across her body in a serpentine manner. Her left hand reached her sexual organ and her fingers started gliding across its surface.

Jenna was openly masturbating as nude as I was. And I was reciprocating with my own self-stimulation.

At some point nerves took over, and I stopped really feeling the pleasure as intensely. But this was an unexpected benefit. Due to my inability to fully enjoy my own erotic fixations, I was fully conscious of Janna’s actions. Every small portion of her skin was imprinted on my mind and memory.

The remarkable situation I was in had dramatically altered my focus on the video. But I did happen to notice the transition from its relatively innocent beginnings back to the scenes of Emilia’s own masturbation. That got Jenna’s undivided attention. Meanwhile my attention was taken by Jenna’s sudden decision to plunge her fingers right into her own pussy.

Her arousal was reaching new levels. In retrospect, I am certain that if I asked right then, she was turned on enough to have consented to fucking me right then and there. In any event, what really pushed her over the edge was the moment she comprehend that Bridget was also masturbating.

At first her recognition was wordless. Jenna’s muscles tensed and she increased the pace that her fingers danced around within her hole. She quietly whispered some crude comments within earshot. “God, I knew Bridget was a little pervert,” I heard her say clearly.

Eventually, the younger moans of Bridget gave way to Jenna’s own instinctual cries. In a brief moment of understanding she leaned over to me and specifically asked “Chris… Is Emilia a virgin?”

Normally I would have been taken aback by this line of questioning. But given these extraordinary circumstances, I hardly had a right to silence. Eventually I squeaked out an answer. “Yeah, fair’ sure she is. She hasn’t had a real boyfriend, and is pretty serious about those kinds of things.”

“Then it is probably her back luck we weren’t there instead of Bridget. Just looked at her makes me wanna fuck so bad!” Again, thinking back on it. I’m sure that if I’d only moved over to her side of the couch, she would have shoved my cock inside herself without hesitation.

As I continued to slowly pump my prick, I became aware of how much the situation had subtly transformed. In theory, as odd as it may be, we were both sharing a fap over the nude image of Emilia. But, while neither of us had lost any of our shared lust for Emilia and Bridget, we now looked at each other with demanding glances. As if to say ‘come on over here and finish me you coward.’

In the end she reached the end before either of us moved. It seemingly surprised her as well as she suddenly screamed my name. “Chris! Chris! Chris!” She repeated and then wildly grabbed at me. I attempted to move over to her, but slipped uncontrollably in my lust and uncoordination. What can I say? A couch is not a stable surface.

My naked flesh collided with hers. And she continued her spasmic orgasm while holding me close to her. Running on instinct I pulled away, but only to reorient myself and put my tongue to work on her upper body. At that moment, however, she took her free hand gripped my eager penis.

This was too much.

I opened my mouth and took her neck. The sudden attention of my tongue on her skin prolonged her pleasure. And I finally released. In several prolonged spasms, my cock shot my seed over the length of her body. And I could have sworn that as she gained some control of my wild member, she directed it at her pussy. Perhaps she wanted the feel of my cum inside her pussy, in unspoken desire for the missed opportunity for penetration.

But that could not come to be: I had finished my second orgasm on Jenna in the span of a couple dozen minutes, and Jenna herself had just exhibited her own aroused spasms. We were thoroughly exhausted of all of our sexual energy, and subsequently collapsed into the warm embrace of nude flesh and intermixed bodily fluids; both of us shortly falling asleep on that couch with Bridget’s own frenzied moans serving as our erotic lullaby.

\--

I can’t honestly say I slept too well that night. I half-awoke by accident repeatedly, usually due to the stimulation of an accidental partial collision between our genitals or some other remarkable piece of her naked body with various parts of my anatomy.

Eventually I drifted out of the twilight of near-sleep into a deeper rest—not long before the sun rose, but it was a degree of success nonetheless. However, in my confusion and terror at what had already occurred, I failed to account for the obvious blunder I had made.

After all, no matter how many mistakes I had made the previous night, no time of the day was more dangerous than the morning. To be clear, I am not the kind of guy that wakes up every morning with my organ ready for impregnation. That particular curse is very much far from universal, despite urban legends. However, like plenty of guys, I don’t exactly challenge the morning flaccid either.

That was too dangerous a risk. No matter whether my intentions were to have to a serious and respectful conversation with Jenna the next morning, spooning nude with my cousin was clearly a categorical error.

Now, I don’t know if you have ever woken up embracing a naked woman without any of the reasonable degrees of separation necessary in these matters, but it is an instantly confronting experience. All the more so when your erect cock has not just made glancing contact with the woman in question, but is already pushing its meat on the outside of her slit, mixing precum with her own liquids as it drops down your shaft.

Honestly, it was the kind of thing that made me believe in the old jokes about the penis having a mind of its own. It seemed as though my little soldier had been trying to impale her on its own while I was sleeping. To be frank, there was no other way to describe our situation other than to say that we had just slept together. We had managed to undertake all of the other activities associated with the concept without my penis actually entering any of her openings—not even her mouth.

Regardless, the current situation demanded action. I had three options: firstly, I could simply manoeuvre my cock into her pussy and finish myself in there; secondly, I could attempt to finish myself in my current position; thirdly, I could wake her up and address the problem from a more reasonable arrangement.

Obviously the first idea was off the table. Not even a pussy literally pressing against my cock had changed my mind on the fact that rape was wrong. (Which I suppose is an achievement of sorts.) And I also ruled out door number three on the basis of logic connected to the first—ironically. It was far from certain, but given the way she was pinning me the coach, if she woke up and pushed herself downward, accidental penetration was possible. Logically, she was not wet enough for that to be an easy process, but it was certainly possible in this position.

Actually, perhaps there was a fourth solution. A mystery answer. A lifeline. This was a solution which required some finesse. But if I could get my hand down to the business end, I could use it as a manual stopped and prevent any unplanned incidents. Even if I could just redirect the tip, I could at least prevent penetration, even if she would wake up to my shaft fully enveloped by her pussy.

I knew this was my only hope. Praying for forgive I reached down and gripped with buttocks with both of my hands and lifted her up. It intensified the stimulation and it ran her pussy across my cock, and as far as my hormones knew it was a prelude to penetrative intercourse. But it was a necessary step for the next manoeuvre. I released my grip on her left cheek and moved that hand down to her pussy. I carefully squeezed it between my prick and her slit, paying careful attention as I felt every inch of her vagina.

Now that I think about it, we had mostly kept our hands to ourselves for the active portion of last night, so this was the first time I had truly taken her pussy in my hand. And as a result, before I could wake her up, my cock demanded my other hand. I obliged.

This intensified the experience on a number of levels. Firstly, my penis finally got the direct attention it needed; and secondly, her body dropped back onto mine, simulating a decidedly coital embrace. In fact, as I closed my eyes, my imagination had taken me to a world where I was already doing the deed with Jenna. With my hand serving as a necessary replacement, I was embracing and fucking my cousin in feeling.

I was on the edge of ejaculation at an Olympian pace. However, I was thrown for a loop when an alarm sounded. Not merely as a warning in my mind, but literally. Jenna’s phone was telling her to wake up. And after some stirring she obediently opened her eyes. Needing to get on top of the situation, I spoke first.

“Good morning.”

“Yes. I suppose it is.” She responded ambiguously. “Now, I’m still feelin’ kinda fuzzy, but am I feeling what I think I’m feelin’?”

Not knowing how to evade the topic, I simply responded truthfully. “Yes. I’m, uh, jerking off. Could you please get off of me so I can finish?”

“Oh. I’m so sorry this naked lady you all but fucked last night is in the way of your alone time.”

“Look, you know that isn’t what I meant. This position is just awkward, that’s all.”

“You’re right, lemme rearrange.” As she said that, she lifted herself off the couch, giving me a much desired sense of relief. However, that was soon undone as she remounted me, just with her head down near my legs. “I’ll finish you off, so get started on me.”

Before I even comprehended what she meant by that, and before my hands could return to my stiff member, it was overtaken by a wet and warm sensation. Despite my earlier thoughts on the matter, I had now entered one of her holes.

At first I was overtaken with pleasure, but not wanting to be entirely selfish I had to tackle the task in front of me. And it was literally in front of me. She had stuck her pussy into my face with little grace or composure. I didn’t know any specific cunnilingus techniques, so I just followed my gut. I lapped my tongue across the length of her slit and then pressed my lips on her naked flesh. My tongue soon focused on her clitoris, since I didn’t know where else would best pleasure her.

I got into a decent rhythm after a minute, and she was reacting positively to the quick insertions of my tongue into her pussy. However, as was expected when she took my cock in its mid-fap state, I couldn’t finish the job. After a moment’s warning, I lost any ability to control myself as I shot repeated wads of my cum into her mouth.

She lifted herself off me as she swallowed it without hesitation. And, in a manner utterly unbefitting of my confused and tired state, gave a gleeful “Thanks!” and then trotted around gathering up our clothes from last night. “I’ll put these in for washing before I go finish myself off. Hope you don’t mind taking up the shower first?”

I was not in a state to think at all, let alone have any real thoughts on what had just happened. And I was far too drained of sperm and energy to get hard again. But you better believe I longed for the energy to continue another round as I heard Jenna’s orgasmic screams from the bathroom as I waited for my turn a few minutes later.

**Author's Note:**

> A draft of the subsequent chapters to this has been written, but at this point it is unlikely I'll publish any of them. This was in the end simply an experiment. Erotica has less strict obligations in terms of structure and narrative logic than most other genres. It involves wish fulfilment as a major theme by its very nature and is in a sense very raw in the emotions it evokes. I was curious to see whether this meant I could write in a more fluid, improved and authentic style if I tried to write some erotica. Unfortunately, I ran into some problems: Number one, I'm just not horny enough to write erotica. I can't put in the time to edit and improve on writing which I so rarely feel interested in. Number two, I was experimenting with using this site because I'm curious about getting into fanfiction rather than just writing originals, but I'm too embarrassed to write any until I orphan this story so that the audiences don't overlap. This was what pushed me over the edge to just orphan this story rather than editing and publishing the drafts. This story turned out surprisingly good for a whim, but I don't want to put off writing something better because I don't want to write some erotica.


End file.
